


Fevered

by frantatic



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Daddy Issues, Daddy Kink, Dom/sub Undertones, Domestic, Dubious Consent, Infantilism, Medical Kink, Murder Family, Non-Consensual Spanking, Other, Sick Character, Spanking, but I enjoyed writing it, or overtones im not sure at this point, rectal temperature, sorta?, this might be messed up idk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-13
Updated: 2020-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:48:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23126521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frantatic/pseuds/frantatic
Summary: Abigail is sick. Hannibal takes her temperature, just to be safe.
Relationships: Abigail Hobbs/Hannibal Lecter, Will Graham/Abigail Hobbs/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 2
Kudos: 72





	Fevered

Something was wrong. The world seemed dim and wavering, a feeling that things were distinctly _off_ permeating each moment Abigail’s eyes fluttered open _._ She would wake but couldn’t muster the energy to pull herself from bed, and instead her heavy eyes fell shut again and again until much of the day had been eaten up by fevered restlessness and sharp, frightening dreams.

The painful scratch in her throat and the empty glass of water on her bedside table is what finally drew her downstairs. It was late afternoon and the day had already begun giving way to night, adding to the disorientation she already felt.

Abigail staggered down the dim hallway, the lights not seeming to fill the space as well as they should. As she walked past the long mirror to her right, she had to stop and stare at her reflection, as it seemed to have preceded her by a good step. She glued her eyes, daring the reflection to move on its own accord again. It did not, but Abigail watched until her face became a swirling blur, her eyes strangely visible amongst the dark mass. Blinking hard, she finally tore herself from the unsettling gaze staring back at her.

Abigail walked downstairs and headed into the bustling kitchen, weaving her way through the many staff Hannibal had hired for the night. It was hard not to be impressed by Hannibal, though she should have expected nothing less from the man and his famous dinner parties she'd heard so much about. Suddenly conscious of her mussed hair and her twice-worn pajamas, she crossed her arms and moved intently towards the fridge.

"Abigail, "Hannibal said to her cheerfully as she drifted through the crowd. He was in high spirits, always pleased to indulge in the finer aspects of life that dinner parties demanded. "I was wondering when you would come down. Would you like to help?" He continued to chop the bloody meat as he spoke.

"I don’t know if I should. I'm not feeling great," she rasped out. It was the first time she had spoke that day, and she wished she hadn’t. Hannibal frowned and asked what was wrong. She had seemed fine the night before. "I dunno. My throat hurts and I’m so tired. I just came down for something to drink," she glanced longingly at the fridge.

As she said this, Hannibal promptly abandoned his cutting board to wash his hands. Abigail felt her stomach flutter as he walked toward her, like it always did when he came into her space. His cool hand was on her forehead, his frown drawing lines into his stoic face. He smelled of spices—garlic, rosemary, other things she couldn’t name. If she didn't have a fever before, she was sure to now.

He gave a vague _hmm_ before fetching her a glass of cold water. Abigail winced as she swallowed, feeling like she was swallowing glass. Hannibal watched on with a clinical look, before turning to one of the many chefs in the room and rattled out some direction in French.

“Oui Monsieur,” the chef responded, and took Hannibal’s place at the cutting board. 

“How many languages do you speak?” Abigail asked, knowing he spoke others but so rarely hearing them.

“Quite a few,” Hannibal was attempting to usher Abigail from the kitchen, but she seemed to become wholly fixed on the idea of speaking another language. 

“Can you teach me?” she asked, suddenly excited. “We could go to France. Bonjour. Merci beaucoup,” she giggled to herself, and continued muttering French half-phrases. Hannibal eyed her with a touch of concern, the fever undoubtedly influencing her odd behavior.

“Perhaps someday. But let’s go upstairs for now darling,” he said, placing a light hand between her shoulders, a crease of concern forming at the heat radiating through her shirt.

“Oui Monsieur,” Abigail smiled, even as she was hit with another wave of fatigue. Suddenly eager to get away from the crowd and back in bed, Abigail allowed herself to be guided back upstairs.

Unknowingly, Hannibal stood safely between her and the strange trance of the hallway mirror as they passed by and into her room. She set the glass of water on the nightstand and collapsed into the disorder that was her blankets, evidence of a restless night and day. 

“Wait there just a moment," Hannibal said before swiftly leaving Abigail, who pouted at his sudden departure. She knew it was irrational, but she felt nearly close to tears in his sudden absence. Her emotions were turbulent, and she felt sad and tired and _sick_ . 

Hannibal, ever the doctor, came back with a small black examination bag in hand. At the sight of him, Abigail couldn’t help but stand and wrap her arms around him in a hug.

“Abigail? What’s the matter?” he stroked her head and frowned at her body, which was like a heater.

“I don’t feel good,” she mumbled into his chest. She closed her eyes and leaned into him, exhausted and wanting nothing more than to be held. Maybe sleep. _Definitely sleep._

“I know darling,” he said and stroked her hair for a time before guiding her to sit on the bed again. He knelt in front of her with his usual grace and began gently prodding the sides of her neck, confirming the swelling he thought he would find there.

Abigail felt herself melt beneath the touch of his cool hands, nearly forgetting to breathe. Usually she dreaded doctor visits, but this one… this one she didn’t mind so much. Hannibal’s odd maroon eyes seemed brighter this close, and she could see every subtle color in his gleaming hair, though the rest of the world seemed blurry. Without thinking, she reached out to touch it.

“Your hair is nice,” she smiled at him, like what she was doing was in no way odd. Hannibal allowed her to stroke his hair, though it caused his concern to grow even more.

"That’s very kind, thank you,” he said amusedly. Gently he lowered Abigail’s hands and reached into the small examination bag. “Open,” he said, flashing a small penlight. Abigail obeyed and Hannibal saw that her throat was red, splotchy, and undoubtedly painful. Hannibal _tsked_.

“We will have to test to confirm, but I suspect you have strep throat. You'll need antibiotics and pain medication,” he rummaged through the bag and took two pain pills from a small bottle, which Abigail swallowed gratefully. Hannibal then pulled a digital thermometer from an inside pocket. “Give those a moment. In the meantime, I am going to check your temperature,” he pressed the buttons, but the screen was dim, and eventually faded all together. Hannibal tapped the thing firmly against his palm, but the thermometer would not respond. He sighed.

“Seems the battery needs to be replaced on this,” he said dropping it back into the bag to deal with later. Abigail shrugged.

“Well whatever. If you know what I’m sick with, it doesn’t _really_ matter. It’s not like I’m delirious or anything,” she stopped, her mind jumping to the mirror, but choosing not to mention it. She would chalk that up to exhaustion. He looked at her, not wholly convinced.

“It is important to be sure. And no matter, I have a spare,” he said, pulling a small case from the bag and opening it to reveal a glass thermometer.

Abigail rolled her eyes, not seeing the point since it was already determined she was sick. Regardless, she opened her mouth obediently for the doctor. He hesitated, knowing Abigail wasn’t going to be happy in a moment.

“This does not go under your tongue Abigail," he watched her face as she understood. She sat up straight, having previously been leaning in close to him.

"I am _not_ doing that," she said in a horrified sort of way, which made her cringe in pain, something that did not go unnoticed by Hannibal. "I’m sick, you know I’m sick. Here, feel, it’s a fever," she took one of his hands into both of hers and pressed it to her forehead. "I'm warm right?" she looked to him desperately. Hannibal hummed in agreement.

"You do seem to be, which is all the more reason to check. We must be certain your temperature doesn’t get too high."

“Well you're not checking like that,” she said adamantly, and jumped up from her spot on the bed, not wanting Hannibal between her and the door. _This cannot seriously be happening._

“It will be over quickly," he told her in what surely was meant to be a comforting manner. He rose from his kneeling position and stood beside her, holding her eyes with his.

"No," Abigail whined and actually stamped her foot in frustration. Hannibal raised an eyebrow at her childish display.

"Abigail, my minds been made up about this. Now I'd like you to take your pants down and lay on the bed," he motioned beside them.

"Hannibal no," her face was scrunched into a miserable pout, and she'd taken to bouncing in place out of frustration. He was really about to make her do this. There was no point in delaying the inevitable when Hannibal wanted something, but she couldn't stop the half- hearted cries of protest that spilled from her. "Please don't make me," she looked at him imploringly.

"You can lay over my lap if it will make you more comfortable. At any rate, I'd like you by the bed," he said pointedly, moving past her to shut the door. Abigail knew he likely did it as a show of privacy, but she felt as though he was blocking her escape.

As he moved back towards her and the bed, she wrapped her arms around him in another tight hug, not sure what else to do. She had to stop this, knowing it was impossible. Once Hannibal decided to keep you somewhere, there wasn’t much that could be done about it until he let you go. 

“ _Daddy please_. I don't want to,” she continued to hold him tight, her face buried in his strong chest. It was a pitiful attempt to slow him down, but Hannibal seemed to respond with nothing but light sympathetic tones and touches.

He guided them to the bed and sat himself on the edge, holding Abigail’s hand as he did so. Her heart was pounding as she looked at Hannibal, his legs spread apart and patting his left thigh where he wanted her.

“I promise this is not so scary, and I will be very gentle,” he said looking into her drooping eyes. “Now take these down please,” he pinched the fabric of her pajama pants, but she jumped backwards out of his reach. Abigail made a stubborn sound as she did so, and Hannibal sighed with a touch of impatience.

"I hope you know young lady that being sick won't stop you from getting a spanking," he warned, cocking his head towards her.

"I don't _fucking_ care. You're not taking my temperature like that," Abigail’s voice was cracking with pain and what was quickly becoming desperation. She had never been so outright challenging towards Hannibal, and her body felt alight with the fear and terrible excitement of what he might do to her in response. It was a game; one she wasn’t sure she was fit to be playing with him.

Hannibal’s expression darkened. Placing the thermometer down carefully, he stretched a long arm out and caught her by the wrist. Abigail squeaked and tried to resist, but she was no match for him at the best of times, much less now when she was feeling so weak. He pulled her smoothly across one leg and in the same motion took her around the middle. She landed across his knee with her bottom on an easy display for him.

“Are you going to make this easy, Abigail?” Hannibal said firmly. It took only seconds for her to begin trying to worm her way out of Hannibal's grip, her efforts doubling when he tugged her pants down to her knees. Abigail let out a raspy cry and frantically tried to pull her pants back up, but a light smack from Hannibal stopped her wriggling.

"Please _no_ ," she was wailing with no real tears, but feeling a very real sense of mortification. She had taken to kicking frantically and pushing herself up into his strong arm.

"That’s enough,” Hannibal said sharply, smacking her twice. “I am surprised at you, acting this way at your age. Do I need to spank you more?"

“ _No Daddy_ ,” she whined, and Hannibal did not need to see her face to know she was pouting.

“You’ll be good then while I take your temperature?”

Abigail began to bounce on her toes at the mention of it, letting out a steady stream of half-formed protests. Hannibal sighed with a touch of disappointment before he began to spank lightly, much more so than usual. He was sure the girl was already in enough pain as it was.

"Daddy please," Abigail begged, reaching her hand back to protect herself from the swats. Hannibal pinned her arm to her side, and carried on unperturbed with the soft, fast slaps, until her butt had taken on a faint pink glow. There was no real pain in the spanking, and under different circumstances Abigail would have very much enjoyed it. Still, she sobbed dryly in humiliation and morbid anticipation of what was to come.

"Now are you going to stop throwing a tantrum and be still for me?" Hannibal stopped, his hand settling on the small of Abigail’s back. She was whimpering into a pillow and continued to kick in response to his question. As long as she was being spanked, it meant that _thing_ wasn’t in her.

"That is enough young lady,” Hannibal said bitingly. “If you don't stop acting like a naughty little girl, I’m going to have no choice but to treat you like one."

Abigail buzzed at what that subtle threat might entail. If it kept her away from that thermometer, then so be it.

"I don’t care," she wailed and continued her exhausted struggling.

Hannibal sighed and held her easily. Swiftly he hooked a finger into her panties and pulled them to join her pants at her knees. He gave way to a few hard smacks, adding heat to her already flushed skin. Combined with how poorly she already felt, it took less than ten good slaps before he had reduced her to a trembling, genuinely crying mess.

“Stop, stop, please,” Abigail felt truly awful with the sickness, and in an uncharacteristic mood, wished for nothing more than Hannibal to stop spanking her. “Please, I don't want anymore. I’ll be good, Daddy,” she wept into the pillow.

Hannibal looked at the miserable girl laying limp across his lap and couldn’t help but take pity on her. He swept away the hair sticking to her damp face and began to rub her back in smooth motions. He praised her for her cooperation, while at the same time reaching for the thermometer.

“There was no need for all this Abigail. I thought we agreed that listening in the first place is preferable to receiving a spanking,” he lectured her gently, but it seemed to sting more that way. Abigail hated when he used that word nearly as much as she loved it. _Spanking_. It seemed something much too young for her, but something she found herself in the position of rather often lately, sometimes intentionally. This however was not one of those times.

“I’m sorry Daddy,” Abigail said in a watery voice.

“I know, Abigail. But your punishment is done for now,” Hannibal said calmly as he dabbed a bit of petroleum jelly on the glass tip. _For now?_ Abigail dared not question it. “I’m going to take your temperature now,” he said, waiting just a moment to test Abigail’s reaction, but she stayed pleasingly still for him. “That’s my good girl,” he said in a low voice, before placing his hand on Abigail’s backside once again. 

A small gasp of pleasure escaped Abigail as Hannibal gently spread her cheeks apart. There was a pleasant stretch that reached between her legs where a tension had been steadily building. Abigail relaxed into the touch, so much that she had no chance to resist as Hannibal deftly worked the thermometer inside her.

"Ow, ah-Hannibal," Abigail gasped at the unfamiliar sensation and reached behind her to the small protruding piece, but Hannibal gently swept her hand away from where he was holding the glass inside her.

"You're doing very good darling." Hannibal said in a low voice. "Just a couple minutes."

Abigail did not feel she was doing very good. She managed to count to fifteen before becoming agitated by the sensation.

"Daddy please, I don't want this stupid thing in," she weakly pushed up on her toes, feeling the urge to free herself. "Take it out," when she reached back in vain a second time, Hannibal pinned her arm to her side again.

"Come now Abigail, not much longer," he spoke to her gently, and began to rub the pinkened skin of her ass in soothing strokes, taking the fresh sting out of it. His hand moved over her sensitive skin all the way down to her thighs and back up again, occasionally drawing light fingernails downward. He built pressure slowly as the time went on, once or twice pulling Abigail open as he had done to put the thermometer in.

Despite the mortally embarrassing situation, Abigail couldn’t help the sighs of pleasure at his hands. She had grown bafflingly wet, unable to stop the heat that the position and touch were stirring between her legs. Now her whimpers of embarrassment were muddled together with the vocal encouragement of his stroking, which she was straining to keep quiet. She prayed that he wouldn’t be able to see or smell the slick that was steadily growing, though she was sure he had some idea of it. If Hannibal did know anything about it, he wasn’t mentioning it.

"There’s my good girl. Nice and still for Daddy," his voice was low and sweet as honey, and Abigail bit her lip at the timbre. Perhaps giving into Hannibal was not so bad, as she was practically quivering over his lap. She was trying to press her front into his leg without being obvious about it, and she settled for the disappointingly light pressure she was able to get.

The minutes passed quickly once Hannibal began to stroke her pained skin, and by the time the thermometer was ready, she was left practically purring beneath his gentle ministrations. When Hannibal finally withdrew the glass, she felt a sense of loss at his touch.

“Up,” Hannibal said, patting Abigail gently on the back. She obeyed as Hannibal allowed her to push up from his lap. Quickly she pulled her pants back up, still unable to ease the discomfort of being fully exposed in front of him. She squirmed at the lingering sense of the glass and petroleum jelly. That, and the snugness of her underwear against her swollen lips made her groan. She could feel the squish of it as she sat, frustratingly unfinished. 

“38.8,” Hannibal said, examining the glass tube in the light. “About 102,” he said, doing the conversion in his head for Abigail. “We’ll have to keep an eye on that, but those pills will help keep it down for now,” he turned to look at her pale face. “That wasn't so bad was it?"

Abigail scowled because she sure as hell wouldn't say that. She pouted and lay her head into his shoulder, seemingly wanting nothing more in this state than to hold onto him. She closed her eyes, feeling like she might be able to simply melt into him. 

"It was bad," she murmured. Hannibal chuckled, a bemused smile on his face. Abigail seemed especially young today, the fever surely working on her mood. 

“Well you did well. For the most part,” he said, weighing the situation. Abigail did not argue, and in fact was close to falling asleep on Hannibal’s shoulder. She would have stayed there for hours had Hannibal not roused her. “I think a quick bath and then bed will be nice, don't you think?” Hannibal suggested gently before rising, to Abigial's dismay. She shivered at the loss of warmth and curled onto her bed where he had sat a moment ago. “Don't fall asleep. I will be back in a minute for you,” he said, lingering in the doorway.

“I’ll try not to,” she yawned, letting her eyes fall shut.

“I’m sure,” Hannibal said, smirking at the girl before setting off towards the restroom to draw her a bath.

**Author's Note:**

> wrote this between finishing my other fic 
> 
> hope u enjoyed xx ;)


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